


Shadows and Coffeeshops

by Names



Category: Chronicles of Amber - Roger Zelazny
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 16:32:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14241351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Names/pseuds/Names
Summary: Deirdre, at ends.





	Shadows and Coffeeshops

**Author's Note:**

> Imported with very light editing, because somewhere in the last 14 years I have acquired marginally more knowledge about coffee. Originally posted at fanfiction.net Sep 18, 2004.

I stopped three shadows over, picked up the lost wallet that was there because I expected it to be, dug out all the bills and dumped the empty leather into a mailbox. At a little boutique a couple blocks down the road, I bought clothes appropriate to the shadow and packed my court clothes into a newly-purchased black shoulder bag. The boy behind the counter blinked at me, then shook his head, a casual exorcism of an old ghost. I told him to keep the change. "Are you sure?" he asked my retreating back.

I stepped into the coffee shop in a world where the sky was appropriately blue and the lines conveniently short and ordered a cappuccino. When the boy at the espresso machine passed it to me I tried to smile. Experimentally -- "Do you remember me?"

"I -- sorry, ma'am," he said. I watched my own eyes hurting.

"It's all right." I debated, lied, of course. "I'm a relative of your mother's."

Flinch. "You look like her."

Technically, she looked like me. I didn't feel like explaining. "How have you been, Owen?"

"Good. I'm doing good."

The girl at the cash register called over, "Grande latte, extra foam!"

"Sorry--" he said, turning back to the grinder, relief flickering over his features.

Outside again, I paced, sighed, and walked the streets into blackness.

It's easier for my brothers, I suppose. God knows when Caine was drunk he used to talk like he had a son for every shadow. Corwin's got at least one, maybe more; Benedict doesn't know I know about his granddaughter. But of us girls -- Fiona's never mentioned anyone, not that she would; Llewella stays in Rebma mostly, settled down but celibate; Flora flirts and lives alone. And I -- well, here I am.

This time the coffee shop was a little less lit, a little more tired. He glanced up at the sound of the door as I entered, dumped the pitcher in one hand unceremoniously into the cup in the other, dropped both on the counter and disappeared into the back. A few moments later, he was replaced by a skinny tan girl who smiled brightly at me while she sized me up. Great. I left.

I considered walking away, letting this go. But in the end - maybe I needed closure, or maybe I was just too stubborn to settle for less than the real thing. A family trait. With a few steps, I let the key of the birdsong change and knew I'd arrived.

I leaned against a telephone pole and thought about going in. Thought about having a smoke first, and dug accordingly in my purse for a cigarette.

There was a quiet zip. I lit up with the proffered flame, blew out smoke, contemplative, met my son's eyes. Silence.

"You should see Dad," he said finally.

"I should," I said, non-committal, hiding behind the words.

"But you're not going to," he said.

Of course I'm not. His father is a poet and an artist who used to draw me so well I barely recognized myself. Green eyes that I pretend don't remind me of anyone. He probably cried when I left. "Maybe," I lied.

He nodded. "Nice to see you," he said, sounding like "goodbye."

I thought about asking him if he'd ever noticed anything different about himself, that he was stronger, faster, realer. Thought about giving cryptic hints at the shadows I'd talked to, practice rounds everything and nothing like the real thing. Thought about telling him about Amber, about my family, about the wonders just around the corner if you knew how to walk.

"You too," I smiled; "see you later," I lied. I walked out, and through, and home.


End file.
